What You Did, Frank
In one square space
by Ann Cefola
And this seems like a
dream from which we
awaken: that you are
not here. We now
bricks wondering what
happened to the
mortar that held us
secure, grit of your
breath, what will
never fly away but
inhere to our own
inhalation ever
beating Keep building.
volume 10(3)
This poem is copyright © 2006,
Ann Cefola, all rights reserved.
Find more poems by Ann Cefola.
The Web Projects of Sondra Ball and Mario Cavallini
